The boy with the violin

A special someone had once asked him to tell her a story, so that she could sleep. She was listening to a song he had written and she wanted a context through which to understand it.

So he did.

There was a boy in the story. Standing alone on a small island, holding a violin. It was alone, with no one to talk to, and nowhere to go. The boy would just stand there, and play.

But this is not how the story begins.

The story begins with a cave.

Once upon a time, in a place far far away, there was a cave. Dark, moist. It had no entrance, and it had no end. It was an outwordly place meant for creatures of another world. The human eye could not see anything, but if one could go there and stand still, eventually they would be able to catch glimpses of sounds echoing in the distance.

These were not real echoes. They were, themselves, creatures of the dark. They were the lifeless notes of silence, dwelling in the cave. Once in a while, they'd become aroused by the distant sense of motion, and they would burst back to life. Slowly. One at a time.

Yet what was once a feint glimpse, would build up into audible sound. At first it was impossible to tell whether the sound was music, but, given time, there was definately music in the cave. Long simmering hisses would transform into bowed strings or plucked chords. Streams of air would be transformed into voices and sound.

And suddenly, the dark cave would light up in a weird dim light, as if stars had shone inside. These lights would move, slowly, following the sound; becoming part of the sound.

One of those lights was different. She was not like the others. She did not know how she came to be in the cave, or where she was going. She did not know what she was, or if she had ever been anything else. She decided to follow the slow movement of lights, crying and singing in this weird symphony of murmurs.

The cave was long, and it kept going only in one direction. There was not a fork in the path. Just a long, straight line, leading seemingly nowhere. It might have taken centuries, but the long path was endless, and the motion perpetual. Entranced, she'd follow and follow the lights surrounding her. And as time passed on, more and more lights would join up and their song would become more and more audible.

She also tried to sing, but she didn't know if she had a voice or if she could be heard. But sing she did, in an attempt to sound just like the others.

Their long journey may well have been eternal, yet she could sense that something was changing. Through the ages, she could discern a sound that was not of their own. A sound coming from elsewhere. A gentler, more refined sound. But, as soon as she could catch that sound, she would lose it. Feint as it was, the symphony of lights often overpowered it.

This sound from elsewhere became her obsession. Slowly, she started immitating it, to avoid losing it among the other sounds. And as she sung, she grew brighter and brighter. Until eventually, she was able to light up the hole place by herself.

They were not in a cave any more. The light shone and she could see that they were in an infinite lake. In the middle of the lake, there was a small island in which only one person can fit.

And on that island, there was a boy holding a violin.

At last, she could listen to the source of this divine music. Yet the boy didn't seem to notice to her.

She tried flying next to him, lightly tapping on his fingers. She blew in his ears. Singed to his song, lusted for his affection and recognition. But to him, it was as if she was never there.

Disappointed, her light started growing dimmer and dimmer, and her voice disappeared into dark.

There was a cave, but she wasn't there anymore. Nor were there any other lights. Just pitch black darkness, moist and scary.

The boy with the violin stopped playing, as there was no longer any star to give him inspiration. He sat there waiting, perhaps eternally.

'Are you there'? Her voice broke the silence between them. It had gotten colder, and he hadn't said anything in a while. She was still waiting for him to speak. Yet it was clear that he was miles away.

She tried staring into his empty eyes, reflecting the stars.

'Is that boy happy now'? She asked.

Startled, he looked at her, breaking his silence.

'Only when she comes back', he said, 'if she ever will'.

'Let's go back inside. It's freezing.'

This short story was first told in person, to someone special, in 2008. It was re-edited and updated in August 2011.

This original work by Amadeus In Denial is licensed under a Creative Commons (Attribution Non-Commercial Share-Alike 3.0) License. All work created 2006-2011.

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